Books were the best way Nina knew--apart from, sometimes, music--to breach the barrier, to connect the internal universe with the external, the words acting Neely as a conduit between the two worlds.

'I never understand why anyone would go to the trouble of making up new people in this world when there's already billions of the buggars I don't give a shit about.'

Books had always been her solace when she was sad, her friends when she was lonely.

Some people go through life not really deciding to do much, not wanting to, always fearful of the consequences to try something new. Of course, that in itself is also a decision. You'll get somewhere whether you put any effort into it or not

Nina had never been to Scotland before. In fact, as she'd booked her ticket. . . she realized that at the age of twenty-nine, there were lots of places she'd never been. Of course she had been to Narnia and the Little House on the Prairie, and Wonderland. . . .

"Look at this! You already have it!"

"Yes, I know, but this is the hardback first edition. Look! It's beautiful! Never been read!"

" And it won't be read either, because your reading pile is taller than I am!"

People tend to focus on the small things to keep the big ones from overwhelming them.

Because Maud doesn't like conflict. That's why she bakes so many cookies, because it's much more difficult to have conflict when there are cookies around.

He dances his way through his existence.

Elsa is the sort of child who learned early in life that it's easier to make your way if you get to choose your own soundtrack.

Except you couldn't put anything behind you. . . you wore your history like a necklace.

It seemed that days of disaster were also days of remembering.

It was tiresome, and there was so much high school left before he could escape.

Time was, in fact, another word for prison.

Even as a child Frank had recognized that black hole of incurable stupid.

I am always holding out hope for tomorrow.

Ballets are full of bloody slippers

The ocean always wins because the ocean never cares. But you, my dear, can drown in six inches of anything.

If we are lucky, we turn out to be nothing but wiser, happier versions of our younger, stupider selves.

Sometimes it's what people don't do that hurts the most.

. . . POTUS grabs my attention when he says the narrative of history is long, and "We just try to get our paragraph right." Life is short and this world is big. Get your paragraph right. And if you're not sure what's right, write.

I like to say hello to everyone, which is why my friends in Manhattan are embarrassed whenever I visit them.

I haven't trusted the internet since the sixth grade, when I was talking to Brian Littrell of the Backstreet Boys on AOL Instant Messenger and then found out is was some nine-year-old girl. . .

. . cover letters are, just as I thought, total bullshit.

Books are the mile markers of my life.

In the past four years, she had grown like everything grew in Alaska: wild.

All this time, Dad had taught Leni how dangerous the outside world was. The truth was that the biggest danger of all was in her own home.

Now Leni was old enough to know that like all fairy tales, theirs was filled with thickets and dark places and broken dreams, and runaway girls.

I can't help thinking that we're more than the sum total of our choices, that all the paths we might have taken factor somehow into the math or our identity.

You realize you're a part of a much larger and more mysterious reality than you had ever dreamed of.

It's the beautiful thing about youth. There's a weightlessness that permeates everything because no damning choices have been made, no paths committed to, and the road forking out ahead is pure, unlimited potential.

Some people are little Chernobyls, shimmering with silent, spreading poison: get anywhere near them and every breath you take will wreck you from the inside out.

I'd never done anything but hunker down and had no idea how to play.

We're all locked into the drumbeat of our history, but eventually you have to drown out that tune with your own voice.

Why was that word, that tiny word, so hard for me to utter? NO.

"There's something romantic about waiting for a letter in the mail, waiting for your destiny."

An overcast day like today sets the perfect mood for a book like this. Every place I have lived has had an urban legend or two. And I've definitely experienced strange things that are hard to explain.
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What I love about this book is that it's more than a spooky story. Jennifer shares the history of the location and how that may tie in with the lore and the unexplained phenomena.

With a cover like this, I couldn't resist a wood on faux-wood shot. As per usual I so, so enjoy David Sedaris' work. His observations and rambling thoughts never cease to make me laugh or think. This is a book that is worthy of a spot on my limited shelves. If you need a laugh that you can also probably relate to, start with "I'm Still Standing."

"I am constantly aware of the burden David carries in order to juggle these lives without hurting anyone. . . ."

This chick is annoying and delusional.

"This is so much better than a net drama." - Iko

Iko remains my favorite sidekick of all time! ❤️

I had to force myself to go to sleep last night. Cress was feeling a bit slow, but I got to a point where all the things are happening! Now I just want to keep reading!!!!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐// What a ride. The first 100 or so pages felt slow and fairly predictable, but I'm glad I kept going. It's a slow burn that becomes a freaking forest fire. 🔥 There aren't many thrillers that leave me stunned, but this is one of them. #thrillermustread

"It isn't paranoia if it's really happening." There seems to be a really thin line between paranoia and reality in this read.

Prediction Number 1: At least one of these people who Anna interacts with IRL is not actually there. My bet is it's either her Dr. and/or it's her husband and her daughter.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ // There aren't many novels that leave me feeling changed, but Lilli de Jong is one of those gems.

It's 1883 and Lilli finds herself pregnant with very few resources. She determines to keep and raise her child on her own during a time when many will detest her for her "sin." The odds are stacked against her, but ultimately this is a tale of courage, resilience, and love.

My library would likely drive her and her friends crazy, but I prefer when my bookshelves are aesthetically pleasing.

"Books wrote our life story, and as they accumulated on our shelves. . .they became chapters in it themselves."

So true. I feel this way about both books and music. A certain book often reminds me of a certain time in my life.

"It's funny, I thought, how the routine of life goes on, whatever happens; we do the same things, go through the little performance of eating, sleeping, washing. No crisis can break through the crust of habit."